


felled by you (held by you)

by taxingme



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Kink Exploration, M/M, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingme/pseuds/taxingme
Summary: Tom has joined them, draping himself all over them while they order drinks. He’s wearing a tight, white t shirt and the soft fabric clings to his muscles in the humid heat of the club. His jeans hug his ass and Andre hates how much it makes him want.





	felled by you (held by you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pinkmanite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/gifts).



> Pinkmanite - I really hope you enjoy this. This is a messy mesh of your prompts and likes and I hope that works for you!!  
> You had so many awesome ideas in your letter and it's a shame this doesn't match up exactly with one single prompt but I had a lot of fun writing and I hope you like it :)) 
> 
> General notes:  
> \- This covers half of the 2017-2018 season and the playoffs but it's not in depth about every single moment or game  
> \- I straight up forgot about Tom's suspension and couldn't be bothered adding it in after so that just does not happen in this universe  
> \- This is meant to be kink exploration more than anything else but there is obviously a lot of porn in her  
> \- I'm not tagging it but, on occassion, Andre deals with some self-depracting/negative feeling that he either suppresses or just doesn't deal with it  
> \- The kink in this is fairly tame but if you feel anything should be tagged that isn't, let me know and I'll add it in!  
> \- This is tagged as under-negotiated kink and you should definitely pay attention to that if it is something you're sensitive too (more in end notes if you are still unsure)  
> \- There is more than one instance in this fic where they have sex while drinking, everything is fully consensual but if that is something that makes you uncomfortable proceed with caution  
> \- Some things I wrote from memory and some I meticulously researched so sorry for any inaccuracies in regards to specific games or injuries  
> \- Title is from Hozier because he ripped my spine from my back with Nina Cried Power and once that came out I pretty much listened to it non stop as I was working on this
> 
> EDIT: some of my formatting went a bit funky and I'm not sure if the proper edit came across? It has all been updated now so should be good to go!

The first time is an accident. 

Andre is in a shitty mood after being scratched. He knows why, Trotz explained it to him a thousand times, and Andre knows he hasn’t been as good as he needs to be since coming back. He’s still sulking in the corner of the booth while the rest of the guys are being drunk and happy. Nicky, Ovi, Carly and Holts are in the booth with him, nursing beers while they chat about their plans for New Year’s Eve. Andre can see Djoos and Vrana waiting at the bar. He watches them, trying his best not to be creepy and jealous, but it’s not fair that they get to be so happy right now. Nicky nudges him, bringing Andre out of his head and back to the booth. 

“Relax a little. You should be dancing with the others,” he says. 

Andre shrugs at him. He can feel the pout on his face, making him feel like a petulant child who doesn’t understand how good he has it. Andre knows he’s lucky and he knows it’s hard to be in the NHL at all, but he should be doing better. And he can’t do better if Trotz won’t give him the chance. 

“You’re only young once, you idiot. Go dance and have fun,” Nicky says. The others chime in as well, telling him to embrace being single on a night like this. 

Andre rolls his eyes. He knows they’re right, knows he should get off his ass and have some fun for the night. He glances over at Djoos and Vrana again. It takes him a moment to find them because Tom has joined them, draping himself all over them while they order drinks. He’s wearing a tight, white t-shirt and the soft fabric clings to his muscles in the sticky heat of the club. His jeans hug his ass and Andre hates how much it makes him want. So far, they haven’t fooled around this season, but Andre can’t help looking at Tom, can’t help thinking about how good it would feel to have Tom all over him. 

“Fine, get out of my way,” Andre says, knocking back the rest of his beer and pushing Nicky into Carly so he can climb out over them. Carly smacks him on the ass as he shimmies over him and Andre pushes back into it with a laugh before heading over to Tom and the others. 

He squeezes in between Tom and Djoos when he gets there. Tom shoots him a smile and brings his arm down around Andre’s waist. Andre presses in tighter against him. They order their drinks and Andre isn’t even pretending to be subtle. He likes Tom and Tom likes him and they both like hooking up with one another. It’s a no brainer on a night like this. They don’t have a game until the new year and – Andre thinks bitterly – there’s a good chance he might not even play in it. The four of them do a few shots before heading back to the dancefloor. 

Andre doesn’t bother with anyone else, sticking close to Tom and pressing his ass against Tom’s crotch until Tom brings his hands to Andre’s hips. It’s maybe a little irresponsible of them but if anyone takes photos it’s easy to play it off as a joke. The two of them grind to the beat. Andre is half hard, and he reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans, tilting his head to look at Tom while he does it. Tom watches Andre’s hand. Andre smirks. 

“I take it you want to get out of here?”

Andre smiles wider. It’s not even hard anymore.

Andre feels less confident in the Uber. There is a reason they haven’t been doing this, whatever _this_ is, this season. After another disappointing loss to Pittsburgh, Andre and Tom spent three days working out their frustrations on one another. It was easily the best sex of Andre’s life. Neither of them held back, falling into the rough type of sex they couldn’t have during the season. By the end Andre felt raw, vulnerable and open because of Tom’s fingers, mouth and cock. And on that last day, Andre had looked over at Tom and thought with absolute clarity ‘I want to do this for the rest of my life.’ It would have been a scary thought if they were dating, the fact that they weren’t made it terrifying. So, Andre had spent a ridiculous amount of money on changing his flight and left Washington before Tom could ask him why. Then, they went their separate ways for the summer, Andre signed a contract and he hooked up with too many people, trying desperately to get over him. 

But, the minute he saw Tom again he knew it had been futile. How could anyone ever compare to Tom? 

“Burky, come on dude we’re here,” Tom says. 

Andre shakes himself out of his thoughts, looking up at Tom. There’s a halo of light around him and his shirt is still sticking to his sweaty skin. Andre’s never seen anything more attractive in his life. Andre shrugs, purposefully guile, because he knows he can get away with it. No one, Tom least of all, is going to question Andre being stupid enough not to notice the car had stopped. 

They walk up to the house and Andre is on his knees less than a minute after Tom opens the door. Tom swears but Andre ignores him, instead focussing on undoing his jeans. He peels the sweaty fabric down Tom’s thighs and then pulls Tom’s tight, black boxer briefs down after them. He looks up at Tom under his eyelashes, mouthing at the head of his cock. 

“Fucking hell, Burky. Get on with it,” Tom says, his fingers tangling in Andre’s hair.

“Anything for that goal, babe. Can’t help the team out so I might as well reward you,” Andre says. He doesn’t mean to sound self-deprecating. Really. He wants to congratulate Tom, wants him to feel good about opening the scoring tonight. Andre wants to suck his dick for it. 

“Hey, don’t – don’t do that,” Tom says. Andre shrugs and tries to get Tom’s dick back in his mouth. Tom tightens his grip in Andre’s hair, not letting him move at all. Andre whines, partly because it feels good and partly because he wants to a brat. “I’m serious, Andre. Don’t be like that.” 

Andre tries to move again, but Tom still won’t let him. Andre has always liked the feeling of fingers in his hair, especially while he does this, but now it feels amazing. He likes that he can’t move, likes that Tom isn’t going to let do anything without his say so. 

“Tell me you won’t talk about yourself like that and I’ll let you suck my cock,” Tom says.

Andre wants to scoff. He wants to tell Tom that it is a shitty incentive. But the truth is that he wants Tom’s cock back in his mouth and if he has to promise not to talk shit about himself for that to happen, then he’s going to do it. 

“I mean, I won’t be able to say anything at all once you give it to me,” he says with a smirk. Tom tightens his grip and Andre can’t help gasping. “Okay, okay – I promise.”

Tom pulls a face like it isn’t enough, but he lets go of Andre’s hair. Andre doesn’t give him a chance to take it back, sliding his mouth down and over Tom’s cock. He’s never been able to deepthroat, so he brings up his hands, one to cup Tom’s balls and one to hold the base of his cock. Tom moans as he sags against the wall with a soft thump. Andre can’t help smiling, he _loves_ giving head. He relaxes into the motions – dragging his teeth every now and again but mostly sticking to sucking and licking. But still, he wants more. He pulls off with a loud pop. 

“You should put your fingers back in my hair. It felt good,” Andre says, shrugging like he doesn’t know what kind of effect those words will have. Tom swears again before digging his fingers in. Andre sighs and goes back to blowing him. The longer he goes, the tighter Tom’s hold gets. Andre shuffles forward until his aching cock rests against Tom’s leg. It twitches under him and Tom pushes it forward until Andre can thrust against it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Burky. You’re too goddamn much sometimes,” Tom sighs. 

Andre looks up at him, knowing how he must look right now with Tom’s fingers in his hair and his mouth stretched around Tom’s cock as he ruts against his calf. Tom tightens his grip and Andre can’t help moaning, eyes rolling into the back of his head. It feels so good, being trapped like this by Tom. Andre closes his eyes, moaning as he keeps thrusting against Tom’s leg. He can’t come like this but, fuck it feels good. Tom’s fingers are so tight that Andre can’t move. Tom thrusts into his mouth, pushing and pushing into Andre’s open mouth until he comes with a broken moan. Andre doesn’t hesitate before swallowing. 

Tom’s fingers loosen their grip and Andre pulls himself back. He rips open his jeans, barely even bothering to move his briefs out of the way, before getting a hand around his cock. He gasps, wet and loud in the quiet apartment. He’s so focussed on getting off that he doesn’t notice what Tom is doing. But then Tom’s fingers are back in his hair, rough and hard, as they pull until Andre is looking up at Tom. Tom still looks turned on, cheeks flushed, and eyes blown wide. He tugs on Andre’s hair one last time and Andre comes just like that, spilling all over his fingers. 

Tom helps him up and they share a kiss before they awkwardly stumble down the hall without fixing their pants. Andre cleans himself up with tissues in the bathroom. He can hear Tom in the bedroom. He thinks about joining him, thinks about snuggling up next to him in bed and enjoying the chance to sleep next to him. But then he thinks about the morning. What it would be like to wake up next to Tom and know he doesn’t want Andre the same way. 

He fixes his pants up and pokes his head into Tom’s room to let him know he’s going home but Tom is already asleep. Andre sighs. Looking at Tom like this the temptation to stay is even stronger but Andre knows he can’t keep doing this to himself. He needs to get over this. 

***

The second time is less of an accident.

Trotz has been trusting Andre more, scratching him less and giving him good ice time. Andre plays fifteen minutes against the Habs and is plus one, but they still lose. He’s beating himself up in the locker room about missed chances when Tom taps him on the head and asks if he wants to hang out. He tries to think of an excuse to say no but he doesn’t have one – there’s no game tomorrow so his only plan is practice and a nap. He agrees to follow Tom home, they could go back to Andre’s but Djoos is still staying there and Andre doesn’t want to have to deal with him

In the car, Andre thinks about the past few weeks. Everything has been normal between the two of them, neither of them mentioning the ill-advised blowjob. And Andre hasn’t been ignoring Tom – despite what Nicky and Holtby think – he’s just been focussing on hockey. Or, focussing on not thinking about hockey because if thinks too hard about it he ends up cranky and inconsolable. Instead of Tom, Andre’s been spending time with Djoos or Carly and his kids. The kids are easy, they like when Andre picks them up and throws them onto the soft couch and they never ask him why he sucks so much this year. 

Andre parks in the street and watches as lights come on in Tom’s place. He sighs into the quiet space of the car. Even with keeping himself busy, Andre still misses Tom like crazy. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to when they were living together, when Latts was there, and the three of them always had one another. Hockey wasn’t as stressful then either. He was a rookie with his whole career ahead of him back then. Now, Andre doesn’t know what’s ahead of him. Andre wishes he could talk to someone about it, but none of the guys would understand, especially not Tom who is having a great season so far.

Andre knows it is awful but sometimes he calls Latts to talk about the A because it makes him feel better about himself. It makes Andre want to be anyone other than himself. 

Andre unbuckles his seatbelt with a sigh and heads up to the house. Tom opens the door with a smile, vibrating with energy that he shouldn’t have after that game. There’s a fizzle of tension between them as Andre gets his shoes off but it doesn’t last, and Andre dejectedly follows Tom to the couch. Even if it isn’t everything he wants, hooking up with Tom is better than nothing. They talk a little about their upcoming game, Philly has been a mess but they’re finally starting to shape up and Andre worries he won’t be able to get his legs under him. 

He says something that makes Tom pause and cock his head. Andre peeks at him out the corner of his eye trying to gauge what he is thinking. Tom has a frown on his face, it’s not a pretty expression but he still wears it well. “What?” 

“Nothing, I just. I don’t get why you talk like that sometimes,” Tom says. 

“I didn’t say anything weird,” Andre says, hating how he’s voice goes up at the end like he’s asking a question and not stating a fact.

“Yeah, you did, bro. You’ve been playing really good lately. And if you hadn’t just been sick, you’d be doing better now. You need to give yourself a break, man.”

Andre can feel his own frown forming. He opens his mouth to say something back and then closes it, not even sure where to begin with that. Either he agrees and looks like the whining brat he is, or he disagrees, and Tom pushes it more. There’s no way for him to win. “Whatever,” he says. “Can we just not talk about this? I’m fine.”

Tom rolls his eyes, the frown sliding off his face. “You were talking shit about yourself like this last time too. It was dumb then and it’s even dumber now.”

“Well, maybe you should shut me up again,” Andre says without thinking. The tension comes back, so thick and heavy Andre feels like he can see it sitting between them.

Tom doesn’t say anything for a moment and Andre worries he’s said the wrong thing, that Tom is going to get mad and kick him out. And then Tom is all over him. He straddles Andre’s lap, tangling his fingers in Andre’s hair before pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. Andre gasps into it and Tom takes advantage of it, rolling his tongue against Andre’s. Tom grinds against him creating a brutal rhythm between his tongue and his hips that has Andre gasping for air. Anytime he tries to move, Tom bears his weight down and doesn’t let him. 

“Move,” Tom says with an aggressive shove. He manhandles Andre until he is flat against the couch with Tom between his legs. “I want you to shut up and let me do this for you.”

Andre makes a small noise but swallows another one when Tom glares at him. Tom undoes Andre’s jeans, pulling at the belt until it whips out from the loops, and pushes them down his thighs. Andre lifts his hips to help but other than that he tries not to move, Tom doesn’t want him to move. Once Tom gets Andre’s briefs out of the way he has Andre’s dick in his mouth. Wet and tight and almost too much. Andre can’t stop himself from thrusting up with a gasp and Tom pulls off.

“Stop moving and I told you to be quiet. I want to make this good for you,” he says, before sucking Andre back down. Andre bites down on his lip and sinks into the pleasure. Tom was good the first time he did this for Andre, but after doing it more times than Andre can keep track of, he’s fucking amazing. He knows how to alternate pressure and suction to keep Andre guessing. They’ve done this so much that Tom could make Andre come without even trying. 

Andre shudders against the couch when Tom starts playing with his balls, but he manages to stay quiet somehow. It’s impossible to stay quiet when Tom pushes his fingers against Andre’s taint before pressing over his hole. Andre lets out a loud whine before he can stop himself. Tom doesn’t even stop – all he does is lift the hand that isn’t playing with Andre’s hole and presses it against Andre’s mouth. Andre makes another noise, muffled under the rough slide of Tom’s hand, and Tom presses down even harder. 

Andre’s not sure what to concentrate on, all he knows is that the heat in his belly is pooling and he’s going to explode in Tom’s mouth if he doesn’t stop soon. Andre makes a muffled protest and again, Tom presses down harder. It hurts but Andre finds he doesn’t mind it. The pressure of it makes Andre squirm and shudder, and it almost feels better than what Tom is doing with his other hand. The weight of the hand and the rough pull of his calluses on Andre’s lips is so distracting that he forgets to pay attention to what else is happening. Tom presses the tip of a finger into Andre and that’s all there to is it. He comes long and hard in Tom’s mouth, all his noises muffled by the hand. 

Tom pulls off and Andre watches him with hazy eyes. His orgasm was amazing and it’s hard to even think about Tom needing one. But apparently Tom is going to handle it himself. Tom fists his cock, spreading wetness from the angry, red tip to make it easier on himself. He still has his hand pressed against Andre’s mouth. Andre lifts a hand to help him out and Tom pauses to bat it away before going back to his task. Andre gets the idea. He relaxes into the couch, relaxes into the hold Tom has on him and it’s no surprise when Tom comes all over Andre’s cock. 

Tom kisses him, soft and gentle, once he takes his hand away. Andre doesn’t want him to feel bad, so he grabs for Tom’s hand and presses an equally soft kiss to its palm. They still don’t talk about it. 

***

By the third time, Andre figures he can’t keep calling it an accident. 

It doesn’t happen again until March. February was a rough month – the Caps barely managing a winning record which keeps them all on edge. Andre gets scratched once during the month. He watches the game and tries not to get too upset when they win. It hurts watching because he hates that they can do it without it, hurts thinking that maybe they don’t need him for anything anymore. He knows it’s a selfish way to look at things, but he can’t stop himself. He’s starting to realise that being selfish is just a part of who he is. 

March is better though. They end the California roadie with a shutout win in San Jose, then beat Winnipeg in their barn before heading back east for another two wins. Andre has a poor showing in Winnipeg but notches a goal in the next game, tamping down his cell because he knows it doesn’t mean much. Then they win again at home, beating the Islanders easily. They have a day off before heading to Philly so some of them decide to go out. Andre says yes because Tom says yes. He wishes it wasn’t the reason, but he knows himself too well to lie. 

The club they end up in has sticky floors and is approximately a thousand times hotter than it is outside. The heat is nice until all he can smell and feel is sweat. Andre loses the guys a few minutes after walking in and shrugs it off, everyone will turn up again at some point. He wanders for a little bit, considering the dancefloor, before heading to the bar. He’s still waiting to be served when Tom finds him. The bartender is flirting with a girl so far out of his league it’s not even funny when Andre feels someone drape themselves all over his back. There’s only one person who’d feel comfortable doing it in a place like this. 

“Is this guy kidding himself? She’d turn me down,” Tom says with a laugh. 

Andre rolls his eyes. “Don’t fool yourself, Tommy. No one would dream of turning you down.”

“Well, I only care if it’s you,” Tom whispers into the shell of his ear, pressing a quick kiss there before pulling back. 

Andre blinks and composes himself with a deep breath. He knows Tom doesn’t mean it like he wants. He knows Tom is only saying ‘We’re buddies and we fuck sometimes and that’s easier than putting in the effort with a new person.’ 

“I’m always a sure thing for you,” Andre tries to say it like it’s a joke, but the delivery falls short. His voice flat and hard. He hopes the pulsing music will hide it from Tom. 

“Me too, babe,” Tom says, smacking a kiss on Andre’s cheek. “Find me when you want to get out of here.”

Tom wonders off and the bartender finally gives up on the girl. He orders a few shots for himself and gulps down a beer after. It does nothing to calm him down. Andre doesn’t care how Tom means it, all Andre cares is that he isn’t going to say no. He hangs around the bar, people watching while he waits for it to be socially acceptable for him and Tom to skip out. He doesn’t even last an hour. Tom is dancing with Devo, each of them doing something goofy to try and make the others laugh. Andre laughs with them before tapping Tom on the shoulder and making a motion towards the exit with his head. Tom grins, wide and bright, before shooting Devo an apologetic look. Andre hopes it’s subtler than it feels. 

A blast of cold air hits Andre when he walks out the door. He shivers in the breeze and hopes the uber doesn’t get lost. Tom huddles up behind him, whispering dirty shit in his ear while they wait. Andre reaches down to adjust himself and Tom lets out a delighted laugh before continuing. Andre retaliates with a swift elbow and Tom makes a small wounded sound. The two of them are fake wrestling when the uber gets there and Andre shoves Tom in. 

“Jesus, get in the car you menace,” Andre says. 

Tom giggles the whole way back to Andre’s and he only shuts up when Andre pushes him down onto the bed. They kiss long and slow and soft until Andre can’t ignore either of their dicks anymore. Andre peels his shirt off before reaching down to tug Tom’s off too. Tom refuses to help him, staying flat and heavy against the bed, while Andre struggles with it. Tom starts laughing again when Andre gives up. Andre wants to be annoyed but he can’t bring himself to care too much. It’s cute in the way it always is when Tom gets tipsy. 

“Come on, bro. We haven’t been naked together the last few times we’ve done this. I want to get naked together.”

“We don’t even have to get naked. I just have to be a little rough with you and shoot off like a fucking rocket, dude.”

Andre splutters and loses all touch with the English language. He feels embarrassment and shame creep down his spine while he figures out how to answer. Tom solves his problem by laughing at him again, a soft tinkle of a sound that lets Andre know he was only easing. Andre gives him a gentle slap across the chest and Tom stops laughing. The tension Andre remembers from last time is there again and then Tom flips Andre so their positions are reversed. Andre wheezes, breath caught somewhere in chest while he gets used to the shift. Tom rolls off him and on to his feet, pulling his shirt and pants off with more coordination than he should have right now. Andre copies him, squirming out of his jeans before Tom settles back down in between his legs. 

“Want to try something new? Or just the stuff we already did before? You do like it right? We don’t have to if you don’t like it,” Tom says in a rush. 

“Woah, slow down, bro,” Andre says. He blinks up at Tom. Tom usually gets flushed during sex, but the splotchy redness is already there and Andre watches in fascination as the colour deepens. Andre props himself up on his elbows so they can kiss. “Of course, I like it all. I don’t, uh, don’t really know what else we can try. Anything you want to try?”

Tom licks his lips. Andre can see his mind racing, can see him thinking about all the possibilities. Andre is doing the same thing. Instead of saying anything, Tom leans into Andre’s space until they’re kissing again. Their dicks slide together and Andre’s starting to get impatient. He doesn’t need instant gratification these days – he may still act like he’s a teenager – but this is starting to get ridiculous. 

“Uh, there’s one thing I want but we need lube.”

“Dude, I have to practice tomorrow.”

Tom laughs and kisses Andre again, tangling their tongues together until Andre’s starting to forget about the lube. Then Tom pulls back and asks again. Andre shifts under him and reaches into the top drawer until his hand closes around a familiar tube. 

“Okay, so I’m going to just –“ Tom says before moving off Andre and rearranging him. Andre lets him. There’s something soothing about not having to think about this, about letting Tom decide what he’s going to do to him. Tom gets him on his knees and elbows. “For now, you can stay like this but when I’m ready I’m going to get you to lean on your face and give me your hands. Okay?”

Andre nods, anticipation curling in his stomach. He hears the click of the lube opening and waits impatiently as he listens to Tom coating his cock in lube. Andre jumps when he feels Tom’s lube slick fingers on his legs. Tom coats the inside of Andre’s thighs with lube, fingers probing over the sensitive skin there as well as his dick and balls. Andre gasps in shock when he feels lube dripping down his crack and over his hole. He can’t see what Tom has done but he can guess: Tom just upended the bottle over Andre. He’s going to be so messy when Tom’s done with him. 

Tom tells him what to do and Andre follows his instructions exactly. He settles down onto the bed with his ass up and his face pressed into the mattress; he puts his arms behind his back, holding the opposite elbow with each hand so they’re joined together; and he presses his thighs tight together. Tom murmurs praise as he does it and Andre can’t help shuddering at the words. He feels Tom moving behind him and Andre tries to calm himself down, so he doesn’t blow his load as soon as Tom gets going. 

It’s almost a surprise when he does start. One moment, Tom isn’t touching him at all and the next he is guiding his dick between Andre’s thighs. Andre relaxes into the bed when Tom’s dick slides up against his balls. He’s ready for whatever Tom is going to give him. Next, Tom grips Andre’s arms, one sticky with lube and the other dry and rough with callouses. And then he starts to thrust. 

Andre can’t get any kind of traction in this position, totally at Tom’s mercy as he begins to fuck his cock between Andre’s thighs. Tom has him completely trapped and Andre can’t help moaning at the idea. He wants to feel Tom all over him and he doesn’t want to be able to get away from it. Tom used so much lube that Andre can only feel the smooth glide of Tom’s cock, the way the head rubs against Andre’s balls and over his dick. His hands keep Andre where he is, and Andre tries as hard as he can to make sure he doesn’t slide on the sheets. Andre’s never wanted to come from so little stimulation. 

Tom keeps thrusting, but Andre knows he won’t last long. Distantly he wishes he could reach down and palm his own dick but then he remembers that Tom doesn’t want him to, that Tom wants his hands behind his back like this. Andre groans.

“Yeah, yeah, Andre. Fuck – make noise, tell me how much you like this,” Tom pants. 

Andre moans, a broken sound that conveys exactly how he feels about this position. He tries talking because he wants to tell Tom how good it feels – because he wants to be good – but it’s so fucking hard. “Can’t, can’t talk but oh, God – _God_. Tom, don’t stop, please, please. Wish you were fucking me for real,” he manages to gasp out at some point.

Tom groans behind him and stops thrusting, releasing Andre’s hands. Andre whines, missing the sensation already, but then he can feel Tom’s hand bumping against his ass as he strips his cock and comes in wet spurts. Then, Tom manhandles him. Pushing Andre’s arms out of the way before getting Andre on his back. Andre cries out when Tom gets a hand on his dick. It is so much sensation after the rough press of Tom’s cock. He doesn’t even last two strokes before coming all over his chest. 

The two of them come down together but eventually, they have to get up. Andre can’t stay like this and they need to change the sheets. They trade a few kisses before Tom encourages Andre into the shower. He tries to pull Tom in with him, but he shakes his head no. Andre melts into the hot steam, not doing much besides letting the water wash away the mess. Tom comes back and laughs at him.

“So lazy,” he teases and Andre smiles. The two of them clean one another up, trading kisses and laughs before getting out. Andre’s skin is pruned up and he’s dreading having to change the sheets. But when he walks back into the room he realises he doesn’t have to. 

“Oh,” he says, too surprised to say anything else. It makes sense. Tom took a while to join him in the shower, but Andre didn’t imagine he would be doing this. Andre turns to thank him and sees that Tom is pulling on his shirt. He shouldn’t say anything, but he can’t stop himself. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“I figured you’d want me to go,” Tom says. There’s an edge to his voice that Andre can’t figure out. It sounds nervous, but Andre’s knows that’s not he case. 

“Never, Tommy. Get the fuck into this freshly made bed with me,” Andre says. 

He doesn’t wait to see Tom’s reaction. He doesn’t need to see Tom’s face, all he wants is to fall asleep together. Andre flicks the light off and navigates to the bed with his phone. For a moment he worries that Tom is still going to leave but then he feels his weight settle on the bed behind Andre. It’s not perfect but it’s all he has. Andre is never going to be able to say no to this. 

***

The next time is definitely not an accident. 

They have been hooking up since last time, but they haven’t had a chance to try anything more fun. Andre thinks about bringing it up, something tells him that Tom won’t be the one to do it again, but he can’t bring himself to do it. And then they’re in playoffs and Andre is injured again. He needs a small surgery for it and he can’t help stressing over it, even though it is mostly routine, because he wants to be there for his team. He _needs_ to be there to help them finally beat Pittsburgh. 

It turns out they don’t need him. 

Kuzy is the answer. Andre loses it watching the game, him and the other guys not playing, celebrating like they’ve already won the cup. He joins them in the room after and he has to push down the ugly feeling bubbling inside his belly. He feels sick watching Kuzy and the others celebrate. He remembers playing in a game before the draft, everything was on the line and Andre’s team needed to win. And they did but Andre couldn’t squash how jealous he was that he wasn’t the one to get the winning goal, the one to make his team successful. It’s exactly the same feeling right now. An ugly feeling that betrays his status as a team guy, something that confirms how selfish he can be. 

Andre swallows a lump in his throat. 

“Woo, baby!” Tom yells, lifting Andre up into a hug. Andre startles in his grip, too lost in his own thoughts to even notice Tom coming for him. Andre laughs with him and it’s easy to let go of the feeling and embrace the win for what it is. This is always going to be his team whether he’s playing or not. Tom doesn’t let him go for a long moment. The two of them share an intense look and Andre feels like everything he feels is written all over his face. The jealousy and the fear but most of all the love he has for the man in front of him. It hurts knowing that he has to look away. Before he can, Tom opens his mouth to say something but stops when a few of the guys walk past. Andre nods at him and goes to give Kuzy the hug he deserves. 

This isn’t the time for him and Tom to sort themselves out. They have plenty of time for that. And besides, Andre is ready to get back on the ice. There’s no way he won’t be playing the conference finals. 

Andre doesn’t make enough of an impression in the first few games against Tampa. He can feel himself struggling, a step behind every play as he works his ass off to get the puck in the net. Nothing works out and it’s barely even a surprise when Trotz pulls him aside to let him know he’s not going in for game five. Andre digs his fingers into his palms as he waits for Trotz to _stop talking_. He can feel anger simmering in his gut and Andre wants to punch something. Needs to punch something. 

Instead, he sits in the box with the other guys who aren’t quite enough.

Andre hates how happy he is that they don’t win. Hates the pinch of satisfaction he feels when the final buzzer sounds. But it gives him a chance to prove himself, to make an impact on the game again. Trotz puts him back in and Andre knows this is his opportunity. He _has_ to prove himself. Game six is tight. There’s no score until halfway through the second and Andre can feel the anxiety high up in his throat. His hands are sweating in his gloves. He knows that they always do but now it feels like his gloves are one of the sticky marshes that Florida is famous for. He can’t stop sweating. His heart is racing. Andre feels wound like a coil the entire game. 

He can’t even relax for game seven. 

But then – he gets on the ice and it’s like he’s flying. Andre can’t even feel his skates beneath him, they feel like they’re a natural extension of his body. He breathes in sync with his skating and Andre has never been so sure of anything in his life: they are going to win this game, and he’s going to help them do it. The first goal feels the first breath of fresh air after being bag skated for a whole practice. Tommy is on the ice with him and Andre can’t help screaming at him. This is for them. The second goal comes not even ten minutes later and Andre soaks in the glory. 

They have another period (and another series) to play but Andre knows they have already won. 

It takes him forever to find Tom after. The team is keeping it low key – Trotz makes them promise they won’t make fools of themselves until they win the cup they’re actually playing for. The Prince of Wales hasn’t left Ovi’s side, his confident hands keeping it where he thinks it belongs. Andre thinks it suits him. He doesn’t know anyone that can pull off such brazen confidence while still being so endearing. In this moment Andre could kiss him. He doesn’t. He knows Tom is here somewhere, waiting for him. 

“There you are,” Andre says with a smile. Tom returns it, looking up at him from the couch in Ovi’s loungeroom. “Come home with me?” 

Tom nods and they don’t bother with goodbyes before slinking out the front door while no one is watching. The guys probably already know what they get up to – Nicky definitely does, he took Andre aside when they first started doing it, wanting to check in and make sure Andre wasn’t going to hurt himself. Andre wishes he managed to keep that promise – but they still want their privacy. Their uber driver is a hockey fan, talks to them about the game the whole way to Tom’s. They sign his cap for him and promise to try their hardest to bring back the important one. 

“Do you want some water?” Tom asks when they get into his place.

“I want you,” Andre says with a refreshing amount of honesty. Tom blinks at him, the words surprising him too, but a soft smile spreads across his face and he beckons Andre over. They trade kisses in the dark kitchen, soft and gentle at first and then desperate and hard. Andre pulls away with a ragged sigh. As nice as this is, he didn’t come here for kisses. He says as much to Tom, making him laugh, before turning on his heel and heading towards the bedroom. Tom trails behind him. Andre whips his clothes off in the entrance to Tom’s room and Tom laughs when he gets tangled in his shirt. 

“Laugh it up, asshole. Now hurry up and get naked. You can’t fuck me like that,” Andre says, pitching his voice low so Tom has to lean in to hear him. 

An animalistic smile appears on Tom’s face. “Who says I can’t fuck you like this?”

Andre blinks at him in surprise and thinks about it. Thinks about how it feels to be totally naked in front of Tom while he stands there fully dressed; he thinks about how it will feel to have Tom pounding in to him while the smooth linen of his pants rubs against Andre’s thighs; thinks about how it will add to the dynamic they already share in bed. Andre flushes as he thinks about it, idly tugging on his dick while Tom watches. He sighs out an agreement before sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Thanks, babe. But it’s not going to work with you like that.”

Andre shrugs, not sure how Tom wants him and willing to wait until Tom tells him what to do. Andre’s not sure how far he wants to go with the stuff they’ve been trying but he knows he trusts Tom, he knows he wants whatever Tom will give him. Tom drops a condom and lube on the bed beside Andre before telling him to get up. Andre smiles at him beatifically before shrugging again. He wants Tom to make him. 

“I told you to get up,” Tom says, a hard edge to his voice. Andre merely shrugs again. Tom swears at him and gently places a hand on Andre’s throat. Andre tips his head back, surprised by the contact and grateful that Tom is only resting it there for now. “Is this okay?”

Andre thinks about it, paying attention to what his body is saying before agreeing to anything. He looks at Tom’s bulging muscles and the white fabric of his shirt contrasting with his tan. It looks good. Andre can only imagine how it looks to Tom. “Yeah, it’s good but like, don’t actually choke me. Maybe just keep your hand there.” It’s embarrassing to say but Andre knows he has to. They can’t do this if they can’t talk about it. 

“Good,” Tom says, pressing his hand a little firmer against the sensitive skin. Andre can feel his pulse racing, but he can also feel how hard his dick is. Andre is stuck looking at Tom’s face. “Get up and bend over the bed. Don’t make me ask again.”

Andre nods and Tom pulls his hand away. Andre misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He stands up, all traces of defiance gone, and he bends himself over the bed. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. He’s too tall for this and his hips don’t touch the bed as he makes sure he’s comfortable with his elbows resting on the mattress. It’s a shock when Tom spanks his ass, harder than anything else they’ve tried. Andre jolts under the pressure but otherwise keeps still. 

“That’s good, babe. I think you deserve a couple more for being so rude. What do you think?”

“Whatever you think,” Andre says, voice already thin and high like it always gets when he’s this turned on. 

Tom makes a considering noise and digs his fingers into the meat of Andre’s ass, fingernails scraping against the sensitive skin he just slapped. “Maybe next time. For now, I want to get my cock inside you.”

“ _Please_ ,” Andre sighs. 

Tom shushes him and presses a kiss to the small of his back. Andre shifts, restless, while he listens to Tom uncap the lube and spread it around his fingers. There’s a moment when Andre worries that Tom isn’t going to do it, that he’s just going to spread the lube along Andre’s thighs and fuck his thighs like that last time, but then Andre feels the press of one finger at his entrance. Tom teases him by sliding his fingers along Andre’s crack before finally working one in. Andre pushes his ass back into the contact, spreading his legs further apart and letting his dick glance against the bed below him. Pressing back like this he can feel Tom’s legs against his own, bare skin brushing against the linen. It’s intoxicating. 

Tom fingers him open like that, working up to three fingers until Andre is a shivering, whimpering mess on the bed. He’s been begging for Tom’s cock for what feels like forever. He can’t get enough friction like this, his dick barely able to rub against the bed because Tom keeps pulling him up and away from it with his fingers in Andre’s ass. Andre cries out when Tom pulls his fingers out. He only quiets down when he hears the crinkling of the condom packet, realising that this means that Tom is finally going to fuck him. Andre stands up, stretching his back as he goes to turn around and face Tom. 

“Did I say you could move?” Tom says, two rough hands on Andre’s arms stopping him from moving any further. He only got half way with his turn; his hips and feet are still facing the bed and his torso has twisted around so he can see Tom. Tom’s arms lock up and Andre can’t move at all. He shakes his head no. “No, I didn’t. So, bend back over and let me fuck you like I want.”

He pushes Andre down and Andre doesn’t fight him. He folds his arms under his head and arches his back. He hears Tom swear above him. It’s satisfying for three whole seconds before Tom presses the head of his cock against Andre’s hole. Andre gasps out one last, ” _please_ ,” before Tom slams his cock in in one long slide. Andre groans under the sudden pressure. They haven’t done this since last summer and just because Tom spend ages opening him up doesn’t make it easy. But, fuck, it feels so good – Tom’s cock is thick and wide inside him and it fills him up just right. 

“Jesus, fuck, Tommy. You feel so good, I’m so full,” Andre pants. 

Tom soothes him with a shush before trailing a hand along on Andre’s spine. Andre melts into it, lulled into a false sense of security and that’s when Tom really starts going for it. He fucks Andre like he has something to prove, he fucks Andre like he’s never fucked him before, like he’s never going to get to do it again. His belt buckle is cool where his hips are pressing it into Andre’s ass. Andre shivers under the intensity of the sensations. Tom groans above him and keeps fucking him harder and harder. Andre gasps, wet broken noises into the crook of his elbow. It’s never been like this before. Andre’s finding it harder and harder to keep track of his emotions. Tom feels so good inside him and Andre never wants to let him go. 

It’s a surprise when Andre comes first. Tom is saying some absolutely filthy stuff about his ass and Andre can’t think about anything besides how sexy Tom’s voice is and how full Tom’s dick is making him feel. And one second Tom is talking about how he wants to fuck Andre bare one time and the next Andre is coming, all over his belly and the bed, without a hand on him. 

“Holy shit, Andre did you just…” Tom says, voice trailing off with wonder. Andre can only shudder in response, his voice stuck in his throat and his chest, tied up with all the things he hasn’t said to Tom. Tom makes a super hot noise above him and slams in a few more times before stiffening up and coming inside Andre. 

Andre becomes boneless once Tom is done, melting into the bed and floor. His knees hit the ground with a soft _whump_ , distracting him from the feeling of Tom pulling out. Tom makes a noise and then drops down to hug Andre from behind. He presses small kisses all over Andre’s neck and back, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. Andre loves it almost as much as he loved the sex. 

Somehow, they end up sprawled on the bed. Andre still feels boneless, so he assumes Tom was the one who did most of the heavy lifting. He’s glad because the bed is a lot softer then the floor, and it feels nice to stretch out his muscles after being in that position for so long. Andre shuts his eyes and lets himself drift. 

Tom presses a kiss to his forehead so soft and gentle that Andre doesn’t bother reacting. “You’re so beautiful like this, Andre,” he says with a shaky voice. Andre forces his body to stay still. He knows that Tom thinks he’s asleep and he doesn’t want to break the illusion. It’s so nice to hear Tom talking about him like this. Andre doesn’t want him to stop. 

“Even with this disgusting beard. I wish I could tell you that without you telling me to fuck off. I wish, well, I wish I could tell you a lot of things.” He presses a kiss to Andre’s lips, just as soft as the one to his forehead. He whispers the words into Andre’s mouth. It’s an effort not to react. Andre feels like his chest has been split open, Tom’s words carving out a space that Andre never knew he had room for. 

Andre wishes he was brave enough to say it back. Andre wishes he was the person Tom thinks he is. Andre wishes he could keep this moment forever. 

***

After that it couldn’t possibly be an accident. 

Andre acted like nothing was different the morning after he left Tom’s, so Tom still doesn’t know that Andre heard him. Besides, Andre is too busy preparing for the final to stress about Tom. Or Tom’s feelings. He’s desperately trying to remain chill about the games but there’s a ball of stress that has been sitting in his stomach since Andre really realised what they had coming up. Whenever it gets too heavy, when he can’t think about anything else besides every mistake he’s made on the ice this year, Andre remembers Tom’s words. He remembers the soaring feeling in his chest, Tom’s soft lips whispering against his, the way the words curled into Andre like they had always been a part of him. 

He needs them after game one. 

The game is tight to start and Andre’s doing well out there. He’s not sure what makes him do it, he knows it’s a reckless play that’s going to cost them a penalty, but he does it anyway. He watches in abject horror from the penalty box as Miller’s slapshot whips past Holts into the back of the net. He skates to the bench and he’s not sure if he actually plays less minutes after that, but it definitely feels like it. A secondary assist doesn’t even make up for the mistake, knowing that if he hadn’t been such an idiot they’d be a goal up. Andre squashes the thoughts down. Pushing and working for the full sixty minutes of the game. It’s not enough. Vegas wins and Andre feels sick sitting in the locker room after. 

Tom sits with him for a moment. There’s a strained feeling in the room; Andre couldn’t bring himself to listen to Trotz and Ovi and now he feels even worse. But then, Tom sits beside him and presses their thighs together. Both of them are still half in hockey gear, so Andre can’t actually feel the contact but it’s satisfying to be so close. “Imagine if I acted like this whenever I got a dumb penalty,” Tom says, quiet so only Andre can hear him. First, he feels a fresh wave of shame of being reminded of his mistake but then he realises what Tom said and he has to stifle a laugh. Tom smiles at him, broad and happy, the lines around is eyes clear as day. 

“It was one game, Burky. Move on and we’ll win the next one.”

Andre nods, serious again. He knows Tom is right, knows there’s nothing he can do besides come out and play better in the next one. All the guys seem better by game two. More relaxed and more in tune with what they need to do to win. Andre’s loose as he skates out – not as loose as game seven against Tampa – but looser than game one. He gets two assists and they get the win and Andre’s trying so hard not to let it get to his head. 

The room is buzzing afterwards. It’s almost funny how different they can all be based on one win, but Andre wouldn’t change it for anything. They fly back out to Washington that night, but it takes them forever to get there – guys pausing to ruffle Andre’s head, everyone chirping Brooks for his goal, no one rushing out of their gear and into the showers. Andre is sitting in his towel after finally showering when Tom comes up to him. Somehow Tom is one of the first guys dressed. The suit hugs his body without being too much and Andre’s mouth goes dry as he looks at him, flushing as he remembers the last time Tom was fully dressed in his suit while Andre was naked. 

“You’re drooling,” Nicky says in Swedish, voice faux casual as he wanders past. Andre whips him with his towel and rushes to get dressed. After last time Andre promised himself he wouldn’t do anything with Tom until the series is over. 

Win or lose Andre is going to tell him. 

The rest of the games pass in a blur. Andre keeps his head up and words hard for the team, he doesn’t score but he doesn’t take any shitty penalties either. His heart soars as he watches Tom get the puck and slide it home past Fleury. Andre can barely remember the days between games, spending his time eating and sleeping and practicing and waiting for the next game. His family is with him, but they leave him be, respecting that right now Andre can barely concentrate on anything other than hockey. 

Winning is like nothing else Andre has ever experienced. He feels full to the brim with emotions, love and joy and pure elation coursing through him as he watches them bring out the cup. Ovi and Nicky are being disgusting on national TV, crying and screaming at one another until they lose their voices. Andre watches them skate around, doing Nicky’s lap together, and Andre still can’t believe any of this is real. He wants to pinch himself but he’s too scared to do it, too scared that it won’t be real, and he’ll lose this moment. 

Tom passes him the cup. It’s heavy but Andre knows he could carry out for the rest of his life if he had to. Once Andre passes it off he skates back to Tom’s side. They share a quick embrace, barely anything, and Andre wants to tell him so bad. The only thing he’s ever wanted more is the Stanley Cup and he can still it out of the corner of his eye, Devo carrying it around like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held. Andre swallows the words down. Even this overjoyed he knows it’s not the right time. 

It takes him close to a week to tell Tom. They haven’t stopped celebrating since they left the ice – drinks in the locker room, drinks all along the Strip, drinks on the plane back and drinks all over Washington, in fountains and bars and tattoo parlours and God only knows where else. Tom laughs himself hoarse – or maybe he already was? – when he sobers up enough to look at Andre’s tattoo. Andre shrugs. He doesn’t give a fuck, he likes it, even if it does itch like hell. 

Right now, they’re at Andre’s, both of them laying in his bed and scrolling through apps on their phones. He’s not a hundred per cent on how they got here but he’s not questioning it too much. Sifting through the drunken haze of memories from the past few days is hard, but Andre knows he and Tom stole some moments together, pressing one another into dark corners to share both rough and soft kisses. The parade is tomorrow and Andre plans on sweating out any lingering alcohol tonight, so he can drink again tomorrow. He checks in with Tom before doing anything else. Andre’s waited long enough. 

“Do you remember last time you were here?” Andre asks. There’s a moment of silence before Tom says yes. “After, I was laying here, and you must have thought I was asleep. You told me you loved me.” 

Tom sucks in a deep breath, looking anywhere other than Andre. It takes close to a minute of silence for Andre to realise that Tom isn’t going to say anything. But Andre doesn’t want to do this while Tom studies Andre’s collection of dirty laundry in the corner of his room, so he taps Tom’s chin until they’re looking at one another. Andre leans forward and kisses Tom on the lips, soft and gentle, and just like Tom did he whispers the words against Tom’s lips. 

Tom groans a broken sound that feels like a thousand daggers in Andre’s heart. Then Andre is on his back with Tom on top of him and they’re sharing the most intense, earth-shattering kisses that make Andre’s brain shut down. When Andre gains control of his limbs again he pushes Tom up, so they can look at one another. Tom still has his beard – which, Andre isn’t complaining about, he can’t wait to feel it rubbing all over his chest – and his skin is flushed underneath it and he has the biggest smile Andre has ever seen. Andre’s never been more in love in his life.

“We need to talk about this but want to fuck me until I can’t walk?” is how Andre chooses to deal with it. Tom’s grin turns mischievous and Andre returns it, leaning up to kiss him. 

Andre sinks into the kiss, relaxing as Tom bites at his lips and presses his weight down onto Andre. Tom is _heavy_ but Andre likes it, he likes the weight on his chest and how he has to work to get air into his lungs. Tom keeps kissing him until Andre is gasping. He feels dizzy with happiness. His eyes flutter open as Tom pulls away and the two of them share a glance; Andre lets everything he is feeling show on his face, he never wants Tom to think he doesn’t love him. 

They share one last kiss before Tom sits up, his ass resting on Andre’s groin. He pulls his own shirt up and Andre watches the reveal of his abs greedily. He’s seen Tom naked more times than he can count but he still can’t believe how hot he is. Andre goes to pull his own off, but Tom stops him, wrapping his hands around Andre’s wrists and holding them loosely between their bodies. He looks down at Andre, a considering look in his eyes. “You gonna let me do what I want?”

Andre nods eagerly. Tom laughs at him, not unkindly, and presses Andre’s hands flat against the bed above his head. “Keep them there for me, babe. I know you can be good for me.” 

Andre makes an urgent sound. He wants to feel Tom _everywhere_. Tom presses a finger to Andre’s lips, the universal sign for _shh_ , and Andre nods before flicking his tongue out to lick the finger. The slap comes out of nowhere, a light tap on Andre’s face that barely even stings. He blinks up at Tom in surprise. 

“Too much?” he asks. 

“Don’t think it’s my thing,” Andre says, still unsure how he feels about it. Tom apologises and presses a soft kiss to Andre’s chin where his fingers fell. It won’t have left a mark, Andre barely even felt it, but he appreciates the gesture all the same. “I’m okay with trying new things. But, um, maybe not that.”

Tom nods, more serious than Andre feels, before digging his thumbs into Andre’s hips. “Just tell me if anything I do doesn’t work. I’m still figuring this out too.”

“I promise, let’s try again.”

Tom rucks Andre’s shirt up so it is bunched up in his pits. For a long time, Tom doesn’t do anything besides run his fingers along Andre’s torso, watching as goose bumps trail in his wake. Andre is shivering by the time he does anything harder. It starts with little pinches here and there, nothing specific for Andre to follow but there all the same. He gasps the first time Tom squeezes a nipple. Tom makes a _tsk_ sound, tapping Andre’s lips to remind him, before continuing to map out a messy path on Andre’s chest with his fingers. Andre wishes the sensations would drive him a little less crazy. 

Tom spends his time doing it and Andre has no choice but to relax into the touches, biting his lips whenever Tom surprises him with a pinch. One of his nails is uneven and it leaves behind angry red marks when Tom scratches down Andre’s chest. Tom doesn’t stop him from squirming, only reprimanding Andre when he makes an involuntary noise. He pushes Andre’s shirt up over his head, leaving it tangled in his hands. 

“Don’t move, yeah? Stay still for me,” Tom says. 

Andre agrees, relaxing further into the bed as Tom takes more control. Tom keeps playing with his chest – pinching, biting and sucking at the skin until he’s covered in splotchy marks that will fade by the morning. Andre feels like he’s floating. Brain soaring while Tom keeps prodding and pushing him further into it. It’s almost surprising when Tom palms Andre’s dick through his pants and Andre can’t stop himself from jerking into the touch. Tom laughs and it has a mean edge that makes Andre blush even more. All he wants is to be good for Tom. 

Tom soothes him with kind words and then carefully undresses Andre, prodding Andre into shifting his hips and legs as he pulls the jeans down. Tom gets off the bed to take his own pants off. He’s rocks hard and Andre licks his lips as Tom shoves his underwear out of the way. Distantly, Andre feels a smug twitch in his brain knowing that Tom can’t wait any longer either. They’ve both been waiting for so long. 

“You can move whenever you want but try and keep your arms up there for me,” Tom says, rolling Andre onto his side. 

Andre wiggles his fingers, still tangled in his shirt, to make sure he can still feel everything but doesn’t move otherwise. Tom pushes Andre’s right leg up towards his chest, spreading Andre apart so that he’s totally at Tom’s mercy. It’s a vulnerable position but Andre feels safe in Tom’s hands, he knows nothing bad can happen with Tom. After teasing Andre for so long it feels like Tom spends almost no time at all opening him up. 

Andre can’t see what’s happening, but he can feel everything. The bottle opens with a loud pop and then Tom upends the bottle and lets the lube drip directly onto Andre’s hole and his fingers are blunt and probing as they press inside. Tom opens him up without going deep, he glances over Andre’s prostate once, but doesn’t bother again, instead focussing on stretching Andre open. Andre pants and writhes, trying and failing to stay still and quiet. Tom shushes him a couple of times before giving up and letting Andre make desperate noises into the bed. It doesn’t matter how desperate he gets though; his arms stay where Tom put them. 

Distantly he hears the crinkle of the condom packet, but it’s not until Tom pulls his fingers out – tugging at Andre’s rim as he does – that Andre realises what’s about to happen. Tom’s cock is a blunt pressure. For a moment, Andre worries that Tom didn’t stretch him open properly, but then his body gives and welcomes the intrusion. Andre can feel everything as Tom presses in; it’s a stretch, a heavy pressure that Andre can feel deep in his guts, but it feels perfect. His eyes roll into the back of his head. They’ve done this so many times and Andre still isn’t used to it, he could never be used to it. 

Tom bottoms out. He whispers into Andre’s ear – sweet, dirty things that make the flush on Andre’s chest spread further. Tom’s hips are flush against Andre and he can’t wait to feel them pounding against his muscled ass. Tom gives him a quick warning before shifting their position, pressing Andre’s chest into the mattress and rolling on top as he starts thrusting. Andre lets out a choked off moan, trying desperately to stay quiet. 

“Come on, Andre – tell me how much you want it. I want to hear you,” Tom says, a hard edge in his voice that makes Andre think this won’t last long. 

It’s a struggle to get any words out as Tom pumps in and out of his ass. All he can concentrate on is the steady slide of Tom’s cock, the way he expertly hits Andre’s prostate with nearly every stroke. Andre groans out praise and thanks in equal measure. Eventually he gives up, if Tom wants to listen to dirty talk he can do it himself. 

“Jesus, Andre. Can’t even do the one thing I want, huh?” Tom says, punctuating each word with a vicious thrust. Andre pants wet heavy breaths against the bed, struggling to drag in more air, Tom pressing him into the mattress again. “I put in all this work… and you just lay there the whole time, looking good and letting me fuck you. So fucking easy, babe.”

Tom’s voice is getting thin and thready, Andre can hear how close he is to coming. Andre wants to hold off, wants to wait for Tom to finish before coming but if he keeps talking like he is there’s no way Andre will be able to control himself. “Such an easy little _slut_ ,” Tom chokes out, grinding his cock into Andre’s prostate. Andre sobs, his whole body convulsing as he comes all over himself and the bed. He never stood a chance. Tom swears above him and comes as well, pulsing deep and hard inside Andre. 

Neither of them move afterwards. Tom only pulls out once he’s softened and they both shudder at the sensation. Tom drops the condom on the floor and Andre pulls a face, but he doesn’t care enough right now to do anything about it. Andre shifts out of the wet spot and Tom follows him to the other side of the bed and they snuggle up to one another. Andre feels like he should say something, but he has no idea where to start. 

“Good?” is what his broken brain decides on. He beats himself up a little but it’s too late to take it back now. Besides, Tom’s emphatic “ _Yes_ ,” tells him he didn’t have anything to worry about. 

They should probably shower, or at the very least push the dirty shirts off the bed so they can nap in peace, but Andre can’t bring himself to care at all. Instead, he traces Tom’s body with his eyes, drinking in his beauty and capturing the picture in his mind so he can never forget it.

“I love you,” Andre says, not sure what else there is to say. Tom crooks a finger and Andre follows it, pressing a gentle kiss to Tom’s lips. Tom says it back between kisses and Andre can’t help smiling in to it. Their kisses get slower and less intense until they are barely there things and Andre can tell that Tom is on the verge of sleep. Andre rearranges the blankets and settles against Tom’s chest. Everything else can wait, there’s nothing more important than this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add my hockey tumblr after reveals <3
> 
> Under-negotiated kink is tagged because there is no serious discussion about what happens while they are having sex and, as it is about kink exploration, most of it is new to both characters (though this is maybe not clear until the final scene). This is not something I'm personally sensitive to so I don't know if I need to warn for anything - please comment if you want to further discuss or have any recommendations about tagging once reading.


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